


Denouement

by jamelia116



Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Maquis, Prison, Voyager Finale Challenge (2000)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-20
Updated: 2017-05-20
Packaged: 2018-11-03 01:07:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,317
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10956504
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jamelia116/pseuds/jamelia116
Summary: A "sort of" Star Trek: Voyager story. The familiar characters are present, but their situation is a LOT different. A VERY Late response to the 1001 Word Challenge issued on the ASC Newsgroup in 2000: write a scene you'd like to see in Voyager's final episode. Very definitely an AU.





	Denouement

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Christina Wilson](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Christina+Wilson).



Denouement

 

A Sort-of _Star Trek: Voyager_ Story by jamelia

 

                                                                         _Captain's Personal Log, 51547.3_

 

_::: "The transwarp drive adapted to Voyager by Lieutenants Torres, Kim, and Paris, based on Borg technology shared by Seven of Nine, is finally on line. We're en route, finally, to Earth. At our current rate of progress the remaining journey--projected to require twenty-five years of travel at top conventional warp speeds--will take us less than two weeks, if all goes well._

 

_:::The crew's spirits are high, but their professionalism impresses me, as always. They are performing their tasks efficiently, despite the distractions, even by Seven's stan . . . ":::_

 

_Kathryn Janeway's ready room floor fell out from under her. An unexpected jolt reverberated through the superstructure of the ship. With barely a missed beat, the captain firmly stated, "Pause," to the computer and marched onto the bridge. "Report!" she commanded before her ready room door had had the chance to close behind her._

 

_The ship's Vulcan tactical officer Tuvok filled in the gap. "We are firing all weapons, Captain. The new transphasic torpedoes are having some effect, but for how long, we cannot tell. We are sustaining heavy damage from weapons fire._

_Ensign Kim reported from Ops. "Shields are at 62% and weakening."_

 

_Kathryn shared a quick glance with her first officer. His face was stoic, but his dark brown eyes were eloquent as he stated, "The image on the viewscreen is to our rear, Captain."_

_A black cube, studded with machinery and weaponry, loomed behind Voyager, dwarfing the Starfleet vessel. The crew had fought battles against many Borg vessels: small scout ships, medium-sized spherical fighters, heavily armed cubes operated by hundreds of thousands of drones. This cube was four times larger than the largest they'd ever encountered._

_They were so close, oh, so close to home. Two weeks away, that was all it would take to finally get home, and now this had to happen._

_The lights on the bridge blinked rapidly. The cube disappeared from the screen. Instead, a visage as breathtakingly beautiful as it was frightening, highlighted as it was by clamps and mechanical attachments from the top of the skull to halfway down the torso. "So, Captain. We meet again, one last time. This time you will not escape me. Soon you and your entire crew will be one with me forever." Her lips distorted into the approximation of a smile, as hideous as any Kathryn Janeway had ever seen._

_The image flickered away. The transwarp tunnel extended before them, so inviting, but the captain knew the Borg Queen's hatred would prevent them from reaching the end safely._

_"Captain, do you want me to order the crew to abandon ship?"_

_"No Chakotay. Our evacuation pods would be destroyed if they tried to enter the transwarp tunnel. If we exit our ship, the Borg would find it even easier to capture all of us to turn us into drones. We'll keep on fighting . . ." Unspoken were the final words to accompany that sentence: 'until we have nothing left to fight with.'_

_They fought. Time stood still in some ways, in other ways it sped far too quickly. Tom Paris called out that he'd lost helm control. Tuvok announced when their weapons systems ceased to have any effect, after the cube's shielding had adapted to everything they had to throw at it. Harry Kim announced hull fractures on multiple decks._

_The captain and commander turned to look at each other. This was it. Calmly, the captain stated, "Initiate Self-Destruct Sequence . . . "_

_Before the captain could give her code to the computer, Tuvok interrupted her. "Captain, a space-time rift is opening straight ahead. I detect a vessel of some sort, which I believe is creating the rift. It appears to have a Federation signature . . ."_

_A ship popped into view. The viewscreen crackled to life with a new image. "Captain Ralph McTavish of the Federation Time Ship Relativity to USS Voyager. Captain Janeway, we have come to rescue your crew and stop the Borg once and for all. Order your crew into escape pods. We will pick them up after you set your ship to self-destruct. Delay implementation of self-destruct until we have confirmed we have rescued your crew. Once your ship has been drawn into the cube, set it to explode."_

_"The Borg surely know your plan, Captain. They won't haul our ship inside!"_

_"They can't see or hear us, Captain Janeway. We have used a temporal shield to prevent them from detecting us, but we don't have much time."_

_"All hands, abandon ship!" Captain Janeway ordered. Sensors revealed that the crew had followed the order: all but three of the crew had left the ship._

_"Tuvok, go! Your wife T'Pel and your family need you."_

_"Captain . . ."_

_"GO! That's an ORDER, Mister!"_

_Tuvok exited the bridge._

_And then there were two._

_"Kathryn, you need me to confirm your order for the self-destruct sequence."_

_"No, you don't have to stay, Chakotay. One of us must stay. You know the captain must go down with the ship."_

_"I was willing to serve as your first officer, because that was the way it has to be on a ship like this. One captain. But as of now, it's only the two of us. The Starfleet captain, and the Maquis captain. That's me. I'm pulling rank on you, Kathryn Janeway. And judging from that cube that's about to swallow us up, it's too late for me to leave, anyway."_

_She gazes at his face. The Angry Warrior once said he would always support her, and now he was proving it to her. "All right, Captain Chakotay. If that's the way you want it, that's the way it will be. Computer, initiate Self-Destruct sequence . . . "_

_They counted down together: "10, 9, 8, 7, . . ." The air around them was charged with a strange electricity. Was this what it felt like to die?_

_=/\=_

_The escape pods which had yet to be swept up by the Relativity had a first row seat as the Borg vessel swallowed up a Voyager which was dwarfed by the cube. Suddenly, all was obscured by a tremendous, million-mega-Braga explosion..._

 

_=/\=_

 

"So, what is this? A mirror universe story?" Harry Chang asked. "Or is it another one of your time travel/alternate universe stories? They can't really die, can they?"

 

"Harry, a mirror universe story _IS_ an alternate universe story," Tim Patrick replied. 

 

"So what happens next? Get on with it, Tim! Don't keep us in suspense!"

 

 "Well, what happens is . . . "

 

The door to the Maquis prisoner recreation lounge clanged open. Jim Braxton, one of the guards, marched in and said, "Hey, you telling another of those _Voyager_ stories, Patrick? Sorry I have to interrupt, but the warden needs to see all of you in the conference room, stat.

 

"Wait. Is the story finished? What happens to the captain and commander? Do they get assimilated, or what? I'm not moving until you tell me what happens!" Joe folded his arms in defiance.

 

"Carhart, get moving. I'm sure you're buddy Tim can fill you in after Quinn gives you the skinny in the conference room."

 

Amid many groans and sighs from the disappointed group of Maquis, the group filed out of the room, following Braxton across the Quad to the administration building's conference room, where Warden Kathryn Jane Quinn ruled supreme.

 

"Rob, do you know what this is about?" Elena Victoria Baez asked Whitehorse.

 

The trustee replied, "No, I don't. The Warden hasn't said anything to me at all. She was in a funny mood this afternoon when she asked me if Tim was going to tell another _Voyager_ 'episode' tonight. I told her I didn't know. Tim was a little down after the last episode. I wasn't sure if he'd have anything for us tonight."

 

"Joe Carhart was furious that his character got killed off. He almost slugged Tim in the mess hall over it."

 

"I heard. I don't think Zeelin was that happy about being left behind on that asteroid, either."

 

"I don't know why he'd be upset. Tim set him up with the possibility of getting a new family, and a chance to negotiate with those miners. I thought our Ferengi arms dealer would think that was a pretty good deal."

 

"I'm not sure how sharp an arms dealer our Ferengi friend really was," Whitehorse muttered. "I think he's the only Ferengi captured by the Federation as a Maquis."

 

"Wrong place, wrong time. He didn't have the best defense lawyer, I know that; but he wasn't going to get out of doing time in jail anyway. He _was_ dealing arms, after all. That's against the law. He was probably better off getting sent here to Auckland instead of a regular prison."

 

"You're probably right. I think he really enjoyed being in the story with the rest of us. Unless Tim figures out a way to include him again in the future, he's never going to hear the rest of Neelix's story."

 

"Hey, what about that long range 'Operation Watson/Pathfinder' thing Tim invented? Do you think I should suggest he use that to keep in touch with _Voyager_?" Elena said.

 

"I don't know if _Voyager_ exists any more after tonight. Tim seemed ready to end it all. I think my 'Chakotay' and the warden's 'Kathryn Jane-Way' are history!"

 

"Nah. If I know Tim, he's figured out a way to turn it into some sort of temporal headache for Janeway, don't you think?"

 

The Lakota trustee laughed as he pushed the door to the conference room open for his friend, the Hispanic engineer from his ship the _Zola_ , which had been captured almost four years ago in the Demilitarized Zone. Thanks to her quick temper, Tim Patrick had cast her in the role of the fiery half-Klingon engineer of the good ship _Voyager_.

 

=/\=

 

As he took his usual seat in the back row of the conference room, Whitehorse surveyed his Maquis mates. As usual, they chose the same seats and sat with the same people they always did.

 

The later arrivals sat in a group on the far left. Ilya Chebin, May Zoti, Aron Reese, and Ron Wise, who had been transformed by Tim into Icheb, Mezoti, Azan, and Rebi, were joined by Gillian Marlow and Noah Price. All had been rescued from the Maquis ship _Solstice_. Annika Larsen had been on that ship, too, but she was sitting on the right with her husband Harry Chang. They'd married several months ago. Tim's master stroke at the time was to have his alter-ego Tom Paris marry his longtime girlfriend B'Elanna Torres in the story that week. Everyone had had a good laugh, although when "Seven of Nine" started dreaming of "Chakotay," Harry had been a little peeved. Whitehorse had to reassure Harry he had no designs on his new wife! He would have to pull Tim aside and ask him to be a bit more careful about his plotlines, judging from the way Joe and Harry had taken the ones Tim had given them recently.

 

Harry had been part of the original group of prisoners to land in Auckland, along with Elena, Tim, Joe, Sam Wilder, and her teenaged daughter Ruth. That first year had been rough on all of them. They'd been captured from various vessels, usually as they were falling to pieces from Cardassian weapons' fire. Everyone of that group had lost close friends or family members. Harry's and Tim's parents, Joe's wife, Sam's husband, and Robert's own entire family had died either on the disintegrating ships or on the colony worlds when the Cardassians attacked.

 

Tim had begun to weave his _Voyager_ stories to cheer people up. No one needed cheering up more than Tim Patrick himself. The pilot's wife Svetlana had died in his arms right after they'd been beamed into a Starfleet ship's cargo bay to be arrested for crimes against the Federation. The doctor on duty couldn't get to her in time to do anything for her. Several "episodes" of _Voyager_ seemed to reflect that tragedy, including the Klingon B'Elanna's death in her human double's arms. It also wasn't hard to figure out why Chakotay received a letter from "Sveda," the Maquis writing from prison. If ever there was a wish-fulfilment bit of casting, that was it. Despite his grief over the loss of his wife, though, Tim had plowed on.

 

Amir Turek wasn't really a Vulcan, but he was so phlegmatic that he was constantly being kidded about being "part Vulcan." Fortunately, Turek had a good sense of humor and didn't mind some of the outrageous story lines given to "Tuvok." While he hadn't minded being blended with Zeelin into Tuvix, for instance, the Ferengi had not been happy about it at all.

 

As time went on, the story seemed to have taken on a life of its own, despite the occasional continuity slip up.  Tim had forgotten he'd killed off Ensign Kaplan. He forgot all about the almost-Borg baby, too. Everyone had a great time ragging him about that. The "Equinox" crew never showed up again in a story. Noah Price was a bit miffed, although Gillian said she didn't mind. The original was harrowing enough for her to listen to the first time. She had no wish to deal with any repetitions. Tim had recently inserted a little bit about "Marla Gilmore" adopting the missing "almost-Borg baby," which she said "satisfied my appetite for appearing in any more _Voyager_ episodes." Fortunately, Tim was an even-tempered sort of guy. He was able to take criticism and laugh it off, most of the time. Whenever someone's character had something terrible happen, the real person got over it, in time -- especially since Tim often found a way to either resurrect the character or "recast" the Maquis individual into a new version of himself, but with a different name or appearance. Everyone looked forward to the next installment of the adventures of Captain Kathryn Janeway and her crew.

 

=/\=

 

Everyone stood as the warden entered the room. "No need to stand on ceremony," she quipped with a grin. With more than a few chuckles, the group sat down again. It had started as an act of defiance, but now, after so much time had elapsed and the warden had proven to have a warm heart despite her adherence to protocol, the little ritual had evolved into gestures of respect from warden to prisoners and vice versa.

 

"I'm sorry to interrupt your evening 'episode,' everyone." Another chuckle swept through the room. Warden Quinn had long ago learned about her transformation into the captain of the good ship _Voyager_. (It was, after all, "Kathryn Jane's Way" at Auckland, even if the velvet glove covered a compassionate hand, not an iron fist.)

 

"I have some very good news for you. I'm sure you are all aware that the Dominion War is finally over, and a treaty is being worked out as we speak. One aspect of the peace talks that has been identified as being of prime importance is the repatriation of prisoners of war. In fact, I was told that was one of the prerequisites for entering peace talks from the Federation perspective. The Cardassians had to acknowledge and respect any pardons issued by the Federation to anyone who was accused of and/or convicted of crimes committed in retaliation for the aggression perpetrated against Federation citizens of the colonized worlds in the former DMZ. In other words, anyone who fought for the Maquis. The Cardassians have agreed to this provision. The agreement was signed today. As of this moment, all of you have had your sentences commuted to time served. I expect a general pardon will be issued soon, but what this means for all of you now is this: you are free to go. You are no longer prisoners of the Federation."

 

Several of those in the audience applauded, some hugged each other, and others gasped in dismay. Whitehorse heard whispers of, "What are we going to do?" "Where are we going to live?" "What's left for us?"

 

The warden held up her hands. Once she had the group's attention, she exclaimed, "There's no need to panic anyone! We're not throwing you out onto the street tonight! In fact, I urge all of you to look into your options; talk over where you would like to go. You should know that as soon as I received word of this, I contacted the Federation Council for assistance. They're sending representatives from several organizations who have already been active in resettling those who were displaced by the war. Some will be arriving as early as tomorrow. You are all due a number of credits, based upon the work you've done here, so you aren't indigent. Take some time. Catch your breath. Then start making plans for your future. That's something you haven't had the luxury of doing for a long time -- or the obligation, either. It's a change, people, and change is always disquieting. My staff and I will do everything we can to ease your transition back to civilian life."

 

Whitehorse stood up. "Warden, do you mind if we stay in this room a while and talk things over as a group? It's a lot to take in all at once."

 

"Of course, Robert. Mr. Braxton, please call over to the mess hall. I alerted the culinary staff late this afternoon that there was to be a meeting tonight. They were setting aside tea, coffee, and snacks to be brought to the recreation lounge or here, depending upon where our people wanted to meet. I don't know about you, but when I have a lot to talk about, I like to have some refreshments available, too. If I get hungry and thirsty, I get a little testy."

 

Laughter rippled throughout the room. The tension Whitehorse hadn't even realized he'd felt drained away. He looked around at his people. He never knew most of them before coming to Auckland, but now he realized they had become dear to him. Family. He needed to be near them now, because they were the only family he had left. Soon they would be departing to points unknown, but he never wanted to lose sight of any of them ever again.

 

Slowly, Whitehorse sunk back down into his seat. Clasping his hands together and bowing his head, he silently gave thanks to the Great Spirit that the people in this room had survived the tragedies of the past several years. At some point, his senses alerted him to the probability that someone was staring at him. Raising his head, he looked directly into the blue-gray eyes of Warden Kathryn Jane Quinn.

 

He wondered if he would ever get used to thinking of her without appending the name Kathryn Janeway to the memory. Tim had cast the captain and her first officer only too well.

 

=/\=

 

"So, have you decided where you're going to go now that we're free men?"

 

Tim shrugged his shoulders. "Nothing permanent, Harry. The people from the Desdichado Foundation had some good news for me. My sister Mary and her husband Jack escaped from New Paris when the Cardies attacked. They made it to Bajor and they're still alive. I found out I have a nephew now, too."

 

"That's great news, Tim!" Harry exclaimed. "Are you going to Bajor?"

 

"I don't think so. I'd like to visit them, but not right away. I don't think the credits the Federation are supplying to pay us for our labor during our 'time served' will be enough for me to travel off planet, unless I get a job offer of some sort. I actually thought I might stay on Earth and do some sightseeing. Thanks to our ankle bracelets, I haven't seen very much of New Zealand so far. And if I do decide to leave Earth, I may not ever get back for a vacation. The time to see it is now."

 

"That sounds pretty good. We don't have any place special to go to, either. It's just us, as far as we know. We haven't heard about any of our family or friends surviving -- apart from you and the rest of our group here in Auckland."

 

"I wish the news for the two of you was better, Harry. I'm glad you found each other."

 

"Thanks. I'm glad we have each other, too."

 

"Then it would be really nice if we _could_ go somewhere together. Do something fun before we leave here. You know, that great 2D movie series 'The Lord of the Rings' was made here in New Zealand. I understand a lot of the locations where they filmed are still in a natural state and unspoiled. They have tours that include a trip through 'Hobbiton,' if you can believe that. It's a National Historic Site, no less."

 

"That might be fun."

 

"I'll look into it. I wonder if Elena would be interested in joining us? I think her situation is just like yours and Annika's."

 

Harry smiled. "I bet she'd be interested as long as you're going to go with us."

 

Tim laughed. "I thought Annika was the social butterfly. Are you both into matchmaking now?"

 

Harry hesitated a moment, thinking about what he could say that wouldn't be too pushy for his friend. Finally, he replied, "Not matchmaking, exactly. Both of us know what it's like to feel lonely and alone in the galaxy. We found each other by chance when she came here. I know both of us would like you to feel a little less alone."

 

"Thanks for that, Harry. I'll be okay." He looked away for a moment. "It just takes time."

 

=/\=

 

As Warden Quinn had anticipated, general pardons were issued to all the Maquis after the signing of the treaty. The news turned out to be good for several of the group, as well. May Zoti found a cousin in Chicago, Illinois. Ilya Chebin was linked up with distant family members who lived in Lithuania. The pair planned to travel to both locations to see if either would suit them for a while. Since both were in their early 20's, one of the resettlement groups offered them funding to attend a university while they decided what they wanted to do for the rest of their lives.

 

Several of the Maquis were offered jobs on commercial freighters. Now that the Cardassian and Dominion threat was apparently over, there was less danger for a shipper to hire someone with a history of fighting with the Maquis. A Ferengi businessman on Deep Space Nine offered Zeelin a chance to work for him. The former arms dealer was one of the first to actually leave. Amir Turek also took advantage of a business opportunity on Andor.

 

Gradually, those still living at the prison dwindled to five people. Privately, Kathleen Jane Quinn thought that the only reason these particular individuals were still walking around her prison had less to do with having "no place to go" than it did to clinging to the past. They had been kept safe at the Auckland Correctional Facility while the worlds they had previously occupied had been overrun or ruined. All five were reluctant to take that first step into their future life.

 

At last the decision was made for them. Forty-seven days after the warden told the Maquis prisoners they were free, the remaining five were told the unit was closing its doors. It was about to be transformed into a minimum security prison for elderly repeat offenders who required physical as well as custodial care. There would no longer be a place at Auckland for the former Maquis prisoners of war.

 

=/\=

 

"There isn't very much here worth taking," Tim said to himself. He was packing to go on his trip through New Zealand via Shire Vacation Tours. His possessions were pitifully few. Other than the items he'd left out because he'd need them to get ready in the morning for his trip, he had a duffel bag half full of clothing and personal articles, along with a smaller satchel holding PADDs with notes on his _Voyager_ epic. "And that's all she wrote," he thought before correcting himself aloud. "All HE wrote, that is."

 

As he stood in front of his bunk, pondering why he'd said "she" instead of "he," someone knocked on his door. "Come on in, Harry. It's not locked." It hadn't been since they'd been granted their freedom.

 

The door opened a crack. "It's not Harry, it's me. You decent?" Elena asked.

 

"Depends on what you mean by decent. I'm fully dressed, if that's what you want to know."

 

The door swung open wider to admit the engineer. "Looks like you're all ready to go."

 

He smiled at his visitor. "Just about. Have you decided on whether or not you're coming with us? Annika and Harry don't want me hanging around like a fifth wheel on our trek through the wilds of New Zealand. I know there's still space for you."

 

Offhandedly, she countered, "You sure I wouldn't be cramping your style? The Tom Paris I know would prefer to be 'footloose and fancy-free.' Just like a certain EMH Mark-1 of our acquaintance."

 

That elicited a guffaw from Tim. His original description of _Voyager's_ curmudgeonly EMH had been accurate to the tiniest detail, mimicking the one dwelling in the holoemitter-equipped dispensary at the prison. Over time, Tim's creative talents had warmed _Voyager's_ version of the Doctor into one of the crew. The portable emitter which Tim granted his "Doc" aggravated the real EMH to no end. Knowing that his fictional counterpart could go anywhere he wanted while the prison's Mark-1 was still stuck in one building was a constant annoyance. He once went as far as to demand someone start working on that mobile emitter "right away." Tim's explanation that the devices weren't going to be invented for at least the next five hundred years did nothing to assuage the Mark-1's bitterness.

 

Once he'd stopped laughing, Tim finally answered, "You know I'm not like that 'piggy' guy Tom at all."

 

"No, I know you aren't," she said, sitting down on the second bunk in Tim's room, empty ever since Kurt Benson vacated it two weeks ago. A serious expression stole over Elena's face. "I don't understand why you made the character you based on yourself such a cad in the beginning. You've always been a one-woman kind of guy."

 

Tim sat down on his own bunk, facing her. "I don't know why I did that, really. I was missing my Sveta so much. I didn't care what my character was like at the start. I made him the opposite of me on purpose, I guess."

 

"You gave him your looks."

 

"In the beginning I made up a lot of characters who looked like us. My imagination was busy coming up with the Ocampa, and the Kazons, and the Vidiians and so on. When everyone asked what the 'cast' looked like, I just described everyone who was asking about him or her 'self.'"

 

"Your imagination definitely improved by the time you created Seven of Nine out of Annika Larsen."

 

"Hey, our Annika is a voluptuous Dane."

 

"Her figure is, yeah. But she's short, and her hair is almost as dark as Harry's."

 

"True. But I was tweaking Harry because of that crush he had as soon as he laid eyes on her."

 

"Did you back off from Harry Kim's crush once you knew our Harry and Annika were starting to really hit it off?"

 

"Actually, yeah, I did. Once I saw how close they were getting, I didn't want to make jokes about them anymore."

 

"Proving once again that you're a very nice guy and the opposite of your Tom creation."

 

Tim looked down at his feet, blushing up to his hairline, the same way he always did when anyone complimented him.

 

"And that's why you backed off 'Janeway' and 'Chakotay,' too, right?"

 

He met her eyes. "Absolutely. It's painful to see them together. Once she made him a trustee, it was even worse, because she talks to him whenever she needs to let us all know something is about to happen -- or not happen, which is more the usual. I guess I should put that in the past tense, shouldn't I?"

 

"Do you think the two of them will be able to act on their feelings now that Robert isn't her prisoner any longer? He's been pardoned for his 'crimes against the Federation.'"

 

"Not as long as she stays on the job as a prison warden. How could that work? It's an impossible situation. Anyone can see that."

 

Elena nodded. She did see, but it didn't make it easier to accept. That gave her the opening she needed to say what she needed to ask next. "And 'Tom Paris' and 'B'Elanna Torres' getting married and having a child? What brought that on?"

 

"You know that was about Annika and Harry, really . . ."

 

"Was it?" She stared at him until his eyes fell to his feet again while his face turned rosier. "You went into a lot of detail about their romance. It started long before Annika and the 'kids' got here. Did you need to do that for the sake of your story? Or was something else going on you didn't want to talk about?"

 

"I . . ."

 

Tim's hesitation lasted for several seconds, long enough for Elena to stand up and take the three steps between the bunks. Putting her hands on his shoulders, she shoved him back onto his bunk and straddled him. "Tim, I've wanted to do this for the last year, at least. Maybe longer, I don't know. We're leaving tomorrow. I won't get another opportunity, so I'm going to take the chance. I've wanted you for a long time, but I knew how devoted you always were to your Svetlana. I didn't want to intrude on your grief. I didn't want to rush you into anything. But I've run out of time. Tim, I want you."

 

"Elena . . ."

 

"Don't talk, Timothy Owen Patrick. Let's just do it. We can talk later. If it's only for one night, I'll be okay. I'll live without you if I must, but I'm not letting you go without knowing there's no chance for us. You put the words right into my mouth -- or B'Elanna's, rather -- in that episode about the Sakari mines. Just let it happen."

 

She leaned down and kissed him gently on the mouth, then pushed herself up again so she could see the expression he had on his face. His eyes were closed, but then they opened to look into hers. At first he seemed puzzled, not shocked. Finally, the faintest of smiles crossed his lips. All he said was, "Yes. Let's."

 

She felt his hands encircle her waist, then slide up her back to pull her face down to his again. He returned her kiss, gently at first, and then with a greater intensity. She kissed him with increasing passion as he rolled her over on her back, knocking a pair of socks to the floor which he'd obviously left out to put on in the morning.

 

There were no words. Her only thought was that, if this was to be their only night together, it was going to be a very good one.

 

=/\=

 

Just before dawn, Elena woke up. Tim's window was open. She could hear birds rustling on the branches outside, getting ready to chirp the morning chorus. Tim seemed to be asleep, but as Elena began to slip out of the bunk, he stirred and reached for her, grabbing her arm and pulling her back. She sat on the edge of the bed and looked back at him as his eyes opened. Such beautiful eyes, bluer than the sky brightening outside the window. "Good morning. You're not going anywhere, are you?"

 

She shrugged. "I won't if you want me to stay."

 

"I do."

 

"Okay. But is it okay with you if I hit the bathroom facilities before rejoining you?"

 

The facilities were the toilet and sink in the alcove off his "quarters," as everyone had come to call them after Tim began reciting the saga of the lost _USS Voyager_. "As long as you promise to come right back. I'll need to use them next."

 

After they had taken care of their personal needs and had slipped back into bed, Tim said, "I have a confession to make, Elena. I had been wondering whether I should be . . . maybe I should be a bit more direct with you. You asked me about why I paired up B'Elanna and Tom. It's true. I _had_ been thinking about getting together with you, but . . . I just wasn't ready to let go of my grief. Not for a very long time."

 

"I understand, Tim. What I said last night, about one night being okay, I _would_ be okay with it." She looked up at the ceiling and amended, "Well, I wouldn't be so okay with it really. I could accept it, though. I always knew you weren't ready to give up on your feelings for your wife, even though she's gone."

 

"Please, let me say that _I'm_ not going to be okay with just this one night. Elena, I've been thinking about a lot of things for the past few weeks. I know my Sveta wouldn't want me to grieve forever. I will always love her, you know that. But you're right. She's gone. She's dead, and she's never coming back." Tim added, in a hushed voice. "That's why I had to finally kill off Seska."

 

"You mean you patterned Seska after Svetlana? That never occurred to me. Why would you do such a thing? You loved her."

 

"Yes, I loved her. And she left me. Hush!" He raised his fingers to her lips to stop her from saying anything before he'd had the chance to finish what he wanted to say. "Of course, I knew she didn't do it by choice. They killed her. But I felt abandoned, just the same. You know, I asked Kestra, our prison counselor,  about my storytelling once. She thought I'd worked out a lot of my anguish through _Voyager_."

 

"I wonder how she's doing since she retired. I hope she's okay. Is that why Kes was so young? To tweak our counselor?"

 

" _Mea culpa_. I will say she was quite sanguine about the way her character "Kes" had left the story and then reentered it for one episode. She realized she was pushing me a little too hard at the time. She said, 'You got back at me pretty good, didn't you?' Honestly, she did help me a lot while she was here. Maybe I'll stop in and see her. I heard she lives in Christchurch now."

 

"I wouldn't mind seeing her again, either. But Tim, are you sure you're over Svetlana enough to move on now?"

 

"I know she would want me to be happy again. I think she'd be glad it was with someone she'd known and liked. She liked you, you know."

 

"Bad temper and all?" Elena laughed, but with a slightly bitter edge.

 

"She said you were a perfectionist. She understood that. She was one, too."

 

"I liked her, too," Elena admitted softly, as she turned on her side to face him again.

 

"Elena, I don't know if this will turn out to be something great for us or not. It's still too new, you know what I mean? But last night made me so happy, happier than I've been for a very long time. I'd like to find out what we could have together. I don't know what plans you have for today . . ."

 

"Honestly, I didn't have any. I couldn't make up my mind if I should take that seat you were holding for me on the Shire tour thing. Oh, yeah. I know you put down a deposit so no one else would take away the chance for me to go with you. I'm sure it's too late for you to get that back now if I don't go, so I will. You won't have to be that 'extra wheel' with Annika and Harry. Maybe it's time for both of us to get on with it. Let's see where this leads. Should I quote B'Elanna again? 'Be careful what you wish for?'"

 

Tim's smile was so beatific, Elena was glad she was snuggled next to him so tightly. She might have rolled onto the floor.

 

"That's great. And afterwards, maybe we can travel to, say, Paris. Or Marseilles. I've always had a yen to see if there is a bar like Sandrine's there. Who knows where we'll end up? It sure would be nice to have you for a traveling companion."

 

"Sounds pretty good, Tim. You know, maybe you should write books or hologram programs yourself. You've got a great imagination, just like your alter ego Tom Paris"

 

"If I can't find any jobs as a pilot, I'll look into it. The commercial shippers might be willing to hire a pilot and an engineer that come as a package deal. I couldn't figure out why you didn't get any offers. You're a better engineer than Joe Carhart ever was. That's why I wrote Carey the way I did."

 

"I did get a couple of offers. I turned them down. I knew I had unfinished business here. I had to find out if there was a chance for us."

 

"Elena, I can finally say this: the past is the past. I don't know what the future holds, but it's time to face it head on. So let's finish packing. Let's get out there with Annika and Harry on that tour. We've had plenty of time to mourn what we'll never get back. It's time to move on."

 

=/\=

 

Annika and Harry were waiting at the transporter pick-up zone, just outside the gates of the prison. "It's about time you got here, Tim. Elena, have you decided to come with us?"

 

"Yes, I'm coming. Those hobbits were little, like dwarves, right?"

 

"Yup. I hope we fit into the exhibits at Hobbiton," Annika said, giggling.

 

"I'll bet you'll fit just fine. Tim might have to duck, though."

 

Everyone laughed. Harry activated the call signal code for Shire Vacation Tours, indicating four passengers were ready to be picked up.

 

Just before he felt the tingling of the transporter beam, Tim glanced up at the hill above the prison. At the edge of a line of Norfolk pines, he could see two figures standing a few meters apart. Glancing down, he saw Elena looking up at the figures, too. She looked back at Tim and nodded agreement. It was Robert Whitehorse's last day at the prison, too.

 

=/\=

 

"I've seen you up here a lot. You must really enjoy this view."

 

Quinn smiled warmly at him. "You have to admit it's spectacular." From this high up, the view of the sea and surrounding coastline overshadowed the overview of the prison just below. This was the first time Robert Whitehorse had accessed it, since it was outside of the fences around the encampment. His ankle bracelet would have sounded the alarm if he'd tried to climb the hillside at any time before the announcement of the Maquis prisoner's freedom. Since then, he'd never tried to follow her up. She was glad he hadn't.

 

"Truthfully, it's a good place for thinking. Even in my office, I can't shut everyone out. My staff is at my door continuously when I'm there. They can signal me to come down when I'm up here, but they know it had better be an emergency if they do."

 

"I can understand that. This is a peaceful place, compared to the prison."

 

"I'm afraid you had even less chance for thought in there. You didn't have an office where you could shut yourself away to keep out the crowds wanting your attention."

 

"It wasn't so bad for me. Most of the time, I didn't mind the company. The middle of the night, when almost everyone else was asleep, became my time to think."

 

"Robert, you needed to sleep at night, not think!"

 

"Truthfully, I never could sleep through the night anywhere since I was forced to leave Dorvan V. There was always a lot on my mind. It was worse on my ship the _Zola_."

 

"I can imagine you were always waiting for trouble."

 

"And it came, more often than not," Whitehorse said, displaying the dimple in his cheek that was only visible with a broad smile, even though his eyes were grim.

 

She smiled back, but the moment was fraught with unspoken words and feelings too deep to be expressed. As difficult as these moments had always been for her, and for him, too, she suspected, she would miss them. Their previous lives and traditions had been so radically different. Her family had worked as public servants for many generations. His life's path was to have been the recreation of the lost world of the Native American tribes on Dorvan V. Unfortunately, the need to defend that way of life through warfare had been the primary way Robert Whitehorse had been forced to spend his life. He'd landed in this prison for doing just that; yet warden and prisoner found themselves to be more alike than different.

 

If only the events of the 24th century had not conspired to keep them separate from each other! But if the Cardassians, Dominion, and Breen had not entered the picture, she probably would never have met him. Now that she had, she wished their story could have ended in another way.

 

The gap in their conversation had become painfully long. Thinking of stories gave her something else to discuss, to break up the awkward wall growing between them, if only for a few minutes.

 

"I never heard how that episode of _Voyager_ ended. You know, the one I interrupted when I had to announce the news of your freedom."

 

"Actually, he never did end it. After your announcement, everyone was so busy trying to figure out just what they were going to do, Tim didn't have anything more to tell us for several days. When Harry finally asked him about it, Tim said he'd had a few ideas about what was going to happen, but he'd never decided on which one he was going to use."

 

"And so he left it there? With the captain and the commander blown up inside the Borg cube?" she asked, incredulously.

 

"Actually, he admitted that was one of the endings he had considered. The rest of the crew would be saved, but Janeway and Chakotay would die, along with the Borg Queen. Without the Queen, the Borg all turned back into individuals, and most would be repatriated throughout the galaxy. In some cases, a new home would have to be found because the freed drones had no idea where they had been from originally."

 

"Hard on the commander and the captain, I'd say, but I can see that wouldn't be a bad way to end the story. If he did that, I imagine he wouldn't be adding any more episodes later on."

 

"No, he said that would have been the last episode. That's why he wasn't sure he would have the guts to end it that way."

 

"You said that was one of the endings to the episode. Did Tim let you know about another?"

 

"Oh, yes. Just before _Voyager_ blew up the Borg cube, the captain and commander felt a 'tingling of electricty.' He said he was going to have the Temporal ship _Relativity_ beam them back at the last minute. Then all of the crew would have lived happily ever after, once the _Relativity_ returned them to a planet in the Alpha Quadrant in their own time -- not Earth, he said -- but one where they would be discovered by Starfleet and rescued. Sort of like refugees cast ashore on a desert island who are found by a sailing ship and brought home, safe and sound. So the good ship _Voyager_ would never have gotten back home, but the crew would."

 

"That sounds like a final episode to me, too."

 

"It was. I guess Tim was getting a little tired of having to come up with new story lines all the time. We _were_ getting a little obnoxious sometimes about mistakes in continuity, like Ensign Kaplan coming back to play golf after her death at the hands of former Borg."

 

She laughed. "All things considered, I'd have to say he did a really good job for -- what was it, almost four years? It's not easy to do that every week."

 

"I think he did a great job. He entertained the crew and helped everyone bury some ghosts along the way. Especially Tim's, I think. I just saw him with Elena Baez. They're going on that Middle Earth tour of New Zealand with the Changs. I'll be interested to see how that works out, since 'Tom' and 'B'Elanna' were such a big part of his story."

 

"So he never actually said which of those two endings he would pick?"

 

"Oh, he had another one, too. He said the _Relativity_ would institute a time loop, and they'd all find themselves back in orbit over Ocampa. The last seven years had never happened. Everyone who was in either crew was alive again, and they were going to have to go through the whole adventure all over again."

 

"Horrible idea! Although I guess that scenario would have had its charms, too, especially for the crew who never made it to the end of the 'seventh year' of the journey."

 

"I agree. I wouldn't have picked that one, though. When everyone asked him to pick which one was the right one, he said he couldn't. He said he'd told us of all of the possible endings he could think of, and we each could pick the end of our own adventure. There was a lot of grumbling, but I think that was a pretty smart move. The truth is, we all knew our 'adventure' was over. How this is going to end for each of us is going to be different."

 

"Which one did you pick?"

 

"I haven't the slightest idea. I'm going to have to see how things go for the next few years. Maybe then I'll know."

 

She gazed out over the sea towards the horizon. "So we'll never really know about Janeway and Chakotay, will we. Did they ever get together?"

 

"I guess if they died together with the Borg Queen, they were together at the end."

 

"Awful man! One thing I do know: Seven would never end up with Chakotay. Harry Chang would go ballistic! He'd make Tim have Harry Kim challenge the commander for her."

 

They laughed together over visions of Harry Kim duking it out with Chakotay over Seven of Nine. Finally, Robert said, "I think they would have, someday. It's too bad it's not going to be the same way for us. We've always known it was totally impossible."

 

She stood stock still. He'd never even hinted he'd felt that way, even though she'd always been sure he did. At last, she added softly, in a voice as far away as the sea shore hidden below them by a line of trees, "The warden and the trustee. Couldn't ever happen."

 

Clearing his throat, Whitehorse asked, "I _am_ officially released. Pardoned. A totally free man now, am I not?"

 

"Yes, you are free to go out into the world, and into the galaxy, and do whatever you wish."

 

"In that case, since I'm a free man, it's not impossible for me to do this -- at least once." Turning to her, he swept her up into a tight and warm embrace. Their lips met in a passionate, but ultimately very sad kiss.

 

Kathryn broke off the kiss, but she did not step away from his hold. Burying her face into his chest, she let a few tears escape her eyes, to soak into his shirt, where he might not notice them until he left, and possibly, not even then. She could not speak all that was in her heart. Her mind was busy repeating all the things she knew would be said by those who didn't know what she felt; that she had no business saying good-bye to a discharged trustee in this way. And her heart answered it was none of those damned voices' business.

 

"Good-bye, Kathryn Jane Quinn. My Kathryn Jane's way, the only way. I know, at least for now, it is impossible. We're impossible. But we're going to have this moment to remember. I'm going to keep in touch. I want to know what happens with all the Maquis who shared life in Auckland with me. And I will always want to know what's going on with you. Just in case, sometime in the future, it isn't impossible anymore." His voice trailed off at the last. She felt a soft touch on the top of her auburn hair which could only have been a final good-bye kiss.

 

He turned to walk down the path towards the prison gates, where the duffel holding his own meager possessions had been left when he'd trekked up the hill to see her.

 

Kathryn Jane Quinn stayed where she was, watching him go. When the sparkling transporter beam carried him to wherever he had decided to be next, she turned back to her view of the sea and the coastline. She remained there for a very long time, alone with her thoughts, before walking quietly back down to her office. New prisoners, the very old and the feeble who could not be allowed to live in general prison populations, were scheduled to arrive in a month or so.

 

She would have to decide if she was still going to be there when they arrived. Or not.

 

=/\=

 

End

 

=/\=

**Author's Note:**

> In the summer between Star Trek: Voyager's sixth and seventh seasons, the 1001 Word Challenge was issued on the ASC Newsgroup: write a scene you'd like to see in Star Trek: Voyager's final episode. I actually wrote three, although none of them were even close to being told within 1001 words or less. (The running joke with some of my Trek-writing friends was that my drabbles were at least 5000 words long. I'm not much for writing one-scene stories, either.) Only one met the criteria of being about Janeway and Chakotay, even though that was not a rigid requirement. The other two were Paris/Torres stories. 
> 
> Late one night I was in an Instant Messaging Chat (remember them?) with Christina Wilson, who would later become one of my co-writers on the "Voyager Virtual Season 7.5 project." I told her of another story idea I'd had, but I had no clue when I'd find the time to write it. It didn't exactly fit the criteria that the challengers had intended, but it was something I would have liked to have seen in the final episode.
> 
> Well, it's taken 17 years, but it's finally done. Since the final season is long over, some of what occurred during that final year crept in. This story is well over 8,000 words, but since the challenge is LONG over, that doesn't matter much. I call it a "sort of" Star Trek: Voyager story. 
> 
> Christina, thank you for helping me. I kept a copy of our chat's transcript all these years because I knew I wanted to write it up someday. Thanks so much for listening that night. This is dedicated to you and to all those late night chats we had that resulted in so many stories from our VVS7.5 group -- and from me.
> 
> Jamelia  
> May 20, 2017


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